The Hounds of Silence
by Little Box Of Secrets
Summary: Sequel to "A Smoky Silence" A rocky start could lead to an unexpected result for the Consulting Detective and his Assistant. John got them to quit smoking but is he prepared for what he's unleashed in turn?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**

**Sequel to "A Smokey Silence"**

**A rocky start could lead to an unexpected result for the Consulting Detective and his Assistant. John got them to quit smoking but is he prepared for what he's unleashed in turn?**

**The Hounds of Silence**

**Not So Silent Tempers**

It was rare quiet day on Baker Street as Doctor John Watson sat in his usual chair as he read one of their many books, enjoying the peace and quiet that was so far and few between for the man.

It was quiet - though he doubted for very long - due to the fact that his other two flatmates were on a case. When asked if he wanted to tag along, he'd declined, wanting some down time to relax and sit back for a while before something predictably dramatic happened yet again.

Deciding on a cup of tea, John put down his book, making sure he knew what page he was on and went to put the kettle on. Just as he'd sat down again with his fresh cuppa, his phone went off, alerting him to the message he'd just received. Reading it, he frowned. _That can't be good_.

_On our way home again, _

_case solved. Might be a _

_while though, had to _

_take the tube._

_RS_

The doctor took a deep breath to calm his nerves, thinking he was probably worrying too much about his friends. Going back to his book, he took a sip of his hot drink, waiting for their return.

It was about twenty minuets later that John heard the front door open, footsteps on the stairs leading up to the flat. Looking up he did a double take as he took in the sight of the more insane of his two flatmates.

Sherlock had come in, apparently as proud as could be, one hand on his waist, the other supporting a bloody harpoon, which he'd smacked on the floor to announce his arrival. He had no coat, showing the expensive shirt he had on, though the light blue of the fabric was heavily tainted by what could only be blood, which covered the man's shirt and face, dripping down his hands and through his hair.

Breathing heavily, Sherlock looked around. "Well, that was tedious."

"Jesus!" John exclaimed in shock. "You went on the tube like _that?!_"

"None of the cabs would take him." Rose said, pushing past the dramatic bloody man to sit on the sofa, throwing his coat on a chair she passed. "Can't imagine why!" She added sarcastically, annoyed that she had to go with the man on the tube rather than get a cab by herself.

Rose Spencer had been getting annoyed a fair bit lately; it had been a week and a half since their bet had started and she felt herself getting more and more short tempered each day. Even if she did have a short fuse though, she did her best not to take it out on her flatmates, aiming any annoyance at Sherlock more than John - mainly because the man deserved it more than the good doctor - and just trying to focus on their cases, as Sherlock himself had been doing. Mostly though, John thought she was doing rather well, the main venting coming out in a big spike in sarcasm.

Sherlock gave her his usual cold look, getting a blank stare in return. Humming briefly, he went to clean up, taking his harpoon with him.

John frowned at the retreating man, blinking before looking at Rose. He was about to say something but Rose, knowing what was coming, cut him off.

"I know what you're going to say John." She started, sighing heavily. "I shouldn't have bought him that harpoon."

A few hours later they were all in the living room again; John and Rose each looking through a newspaper for a case while Sherlock paced back and forth, dressing gown flowing behind him as he swung the - now clean - harpoon round in front of him.

"Nothing?" Sherlock asked them.

"Military coup in Uganda…" John read out read out, knowing he wouldn't be interested.

"Another photo of you with the hat." Rose added, smirking slightly at his annoyed grunt.

John sounded interested though. "Oh, cabinet re-shuffle…"

"Nothing of importance! Oh, god!" Sherlock shouted, slamming the harpoon on the floor with a resounding bang. He seemed to calm then, turning to the doctor. "John, I need some. Get me some!" He demanded.

John just looked at him though, blinked and replied shortly. "No."

"Get me some!" Sherlock argued, raising his voice, Rose closing her eyes at the throb that started in her head at the shouting; she hated it when people shouted.

"No!" John just replied, voice calmer but determined. "Cold turkey, we agreed. Want to let her win?" This just got a dark chuckle from the young woman who was determined to win their bet.

"Besides, you've paid everyone off, remember?" Rose reminded him, relying on her own determination to get through rather than paying off the shop keepers. "No one in a two mile radius will sell you any."

"Stupid idea!" Sherlock snapped, having put down his harpoon. "Whose idea was that?" Getting an obvious look from the both of them, he cleared his throat and tried a different approach; this was apparently to look for them, making a complete mess of the flat, throwing papers and random little things everywhere.

"Look Sherlock, you're doing really well." John encouraged. "Don't give up now."

"Tell me where they are." He asked, an odd emotion in his voice and he carried on searching. "Please, tell me." Turing to back to them, he just looked at John sadly; exaggerated, but still sad. "Please…"

John just looked at him, knowing his tricks. "Can't help. Sorry."

"I'll let you know next weeks lottery numbers." Sherlock told them, getting a snort from Rose and a chuckle from John. "Oh, it was worth a try."

He threw himself onto his chair, hands twitching, feet patting against the floor as he constantly looked around, never stopping even for a moment. Rose however was sat quite still and the man's constant twitching and moving was starting to irritate her a bit. Standing up, she stopped by John's chair. "Tea, John?"

Seeing she was getting a little wound up, he just agreed. "Yeah, go on then, if you're making one."

The mistake however, was asking Sherlock. "Coffee, Sherlock?"

He looked up, freezing for a second before giving her a patronising look. "Oh, I envy you Rose."

Chewing her lip, she crossed her arms and fully faced the craving man. "You envy me?" She asked quietly, ignoring the worried glance John gave her; she seemed too calm to him, too collected for a craving smoker - Sherlock was proof of that.

"Your mind, it's so placid. So straight forward." He started, not seeing the slight tension in her jaw. "Barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket, tearing itself apart, trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!" He shouted.

However he was not expecting the shout that he got in return, fire dancing in the woman's eyes as she argued back at him. "You've just solved one!" She exclaimed, making John jump as her hands came up to wave in the air; they hadn't heard her shout like this before. "By harpooning a dead pig! God only knows why!"

Sherlock looked up at the sudden out burst that didn't come from himself, seeing things he didn't before. Frowning, he decided he now had something to do. "You went out last night."

"Congratulations Sherlock." She replied sarcastically. "You noticed I'd left, nearly a whole day later."

"But you wore make up, didn't take it all off; traces of eyeliner." He deduced, literally pointing it out.

"Oh for…" She said, letting out a frustrated sigh. "All I asked was if you wanted coffee."

He carried on though, seeing more and more in his determination for something to do. "You changed you clothes though, wore make up; says effort. Maybe hoping to meet a man?"

"Sherlock." John warned, empathising with Rose for when the man didn't listen to her warnings. John saw that Rose was starting to get more than just annoyed though, the emotion building up, getting ready to lash out again.

"Stayed out late though, didn't come back until I was asleep, so very late." He continued at his fast pace, not seeing the most obvious fact; he was pissing her off. "Greasy ketchup stain on your boot says you had chips before you got in, most likely to distract from you need of a cigarette, I sympathise entirely! But out that late, wanting a cigarette, and the fact your purse is thinner than it was this time yesterday, I think it's safe to assume you were drinking, and we all know where that leads, now don't we? What was it; rum and coke again?"

"You smart arse sod!" She shouted at him, surprising them both with her anger - even if John was waiting for it. "Yes, I went out - but I didn't know I had to explain that to _you_, Sherlock! I went out for a drink with an old friend; _female_ friend, if you must know. We had a laugh then went to get food; it's called hunger! I'm allowed to have a night out once in a while! So tell me, _oh great one_, anything more to add, while you're at it?!" She stared at him, breathing heavy, hands balled into fists and eyes wild with an anger she hadn't released on either of them before.

John just looked at her, wide eyed before looking to Sherlock, who seemed to be stunned into silence.

When she didn't get a reply from him she let out a steadying breath, but the tension never left her posture. She just said, "You can get your own coffee." in a normal, calm voice before turning around and heading down to her room, the only indicator that she was angry at all - apart from her stride - being the loud slam of the living room door that echoed behind her.

John rounded on Sherlock. "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

Sherlock just huffed. "You don't understand."

"Go after her and apologise." John told him, thumb jabbing in the direction of the closed door.

Sherlock frowned in confusion. "Apologise?"

John just nodded, humming an agreement.

Sherlock just frowned deeper, thinking about what that would actually do; _probably just result in violence_, he thought, seeing now how angry she really was. "Yeah, I don't think that'll work."

"What?" John asked, not understanding.

"She needs to calm down." Sherlock told him before getting back to his first point of interest. "And _I_ need a _case_!"

John sighed, seeing he was getting no where with an apology. _Probably is best to let her calm down a bit too_, he thought, not really knowing how to deal with an angry Rose; angry women were not his forte - though Rose was hardly the typical woman. "Nothing on the website?"

Sherlock got up and went to the laptop, pulling up the blog in question before handing the devise to John for him to see. "_Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes, I can't fine Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?" _He said from memory, waddling slightly with every _please._

"Bluebell…?" John asked.

Sherlock rounded on his remaining flatmate. "A rabbit, John!"

"Oh…" John said, wondering if they really could even consider taking this case.

"Ah, but there's more!" Sherlock said, John looking up to him from his chair. "Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous._ Like a fairy_, according to little Kirsty. Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still shut, no sign of a forced entry!" He said mockingly before realisation dawned on his face, hands waving about. "Ah, what am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

John just looked at the laptop again before back to his mad friend. "Are you serious?" With the amount of ridiculous cases they'd taken, he didn't quite know anymore.

"It's this…" Sherlock told him, "…or Cluedo."

"Ah, no!" John countered, putting the laptop of the table again. "We are never playing that again!"

"What?" Sherlock said, in confusion; Rose had always said _no_ too, but they'd never actually explained why. "Why not?"

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock. That's why." John explained. He'd thought it would be fun to play a nice game of catch the killer - literally, just a normal game, no bombs or actual death - on Christmas day, but he'd soon regretted it, as had everyone else involved. A secret and unsaid agreement passed between them all; they'd never play Cluedo with Sherlock again.

"It was the only possible solution." Sherlock argued.

"Not in the rules!" John countered, knowing it wouldn't make any difference.

"Well, then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock shouted at him.

_Ring…_

The sound of the door bell ringing - for once fully operational - cut their debate short.

Listening for a few more seconds, John spoke up. "Single ring."

"Maximum pressure, just under the half second." Sherlock noted.

They looked at each other, both knowing what it all meant. "Client."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Hounds of Silence**

**Silent Circles**

Slamming the living room door, she stormed down the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her as she threw herself face first on her bed. Pulling a pillow forward, she shoved her face into it, letting out a guttural sound somewhere between a scream and a growl.

_Sherlock bloody Holmes_, she thought, mind racing in her fury_. Who the hell does he think he is?_

She knew she was probably over reacting, but she'd put up with him for so long, the slight annoyances had just built up and up, the addition of the need for a cigarette only adding to her temperament.

She'd gone out, for one night, with Ethel, catching up and just hanging out. For one night, she could forget the murders and the rest of the world. She was just another twenty-three year old on a night out with her friend.

She had had a drink - several in fact - but it was hardly like she was a child. She could handle her drink better than either of her brothers and wasn't even that drunk, just merry and, for once, completely relaxed.

The shot about Mycroft was a step too far for her though; she was confused enough as it was. And it wasn't as though she hadn't given the younger Holmes ample opportunity to tell her to back off.

Meanwhile, concerning the older Holmes, she seemed to be just going round in circles; she liked him, but after the discussion with Irene after they all got off the plane….she didn't know if it was right to play this game anymore.

He had been a little scary; the open threat of commanding people to _extract information_ was bone chilling. Sherlock himself had said his brother was the most dangerous man Rose would ever meet and she was starting to see that more and more.

To top it off she was trying - a hell of a lot in fact - to not get too attached to the suited man. The events with Irene had helped a lot and she knew that she would only get hurt it she were to start to care too deeply for Mycroft. He was a Holmes and as far as she could see, he was a far more sociopathic than his infuriating little brother was.

While Sherlock didn't understand emotions, she knew he still did feel things like a normal person; more or less. He cared about her and John, even if he had an unusual way of showing it. He got excited and frustrated - about not so typical things but that was just a matter of personal taste - and even got worried, no matter how much he denied it. And yes, he was a drama queen at times, but she knew it was to make his life more interesting, being bored out of his racing mind with an average life.

Mycroft however was a bit of a mystery. She knew he enjoyed their game, but suspected that was all it was to the man; a game, something to pass the time. She didn't mind of course - Rose Spencer was not a stranger to the term _friends with benefits _- but she did like to know where she stood. Until she did, her head was spinning with the suited man.

When her mind was still - and sometimes even when she was working on something - she would suddenly be reminded of him somehow and a little memory would creep in, any one of their talks becoming a beautiful distraction to the young woman. Then she'd end up blushing slightly, shaking her head of the thoughts and would carry on with whatever she was supposed to be doing. While Sherlock seemed not to notice - though obviously he'd noticed more than she thought - Lestrade was starting to give her some funny looks, the latest looking far too knowing; serving to only make her blush more.

Unfortunately for the emotional and craving young woman, this dilemma with the older Holmes fit perfectly with everything else she had done in her life; he wasn't good for her - and she knew it - but it only made her want it more. The danger of what could happen, the possibility that it would end horrifically if she wasn't incredibly careful, the rush she got when their meetings ended relatively well; it made her head spin wildly, her heart race when she thought of him and all the trouble he inevitably brought with him.

Her want for bad things would really be the end of her one day; cutting, smoking, even her job and the men she lived with - an ex-army doctor with a gun and Sherlock himself. But she couldn't help it; it wasn't like she went looking for trouble…well she didn't used to…much…

So, with her emotions in a spin already, the added lack of nicotine that was steadily ripping away any patience she had, Sherlock deciding that she was going to be a distraction from his own cravings was very much not a good thing, especially when she didn't know what to make of his deductions.

Sighing in frustration, she realised she couldn't stay in her room all day and would have to face the music sooner or later. Washing her face first, the cool water calming her somewhat, she heard something that caught her attention, smirk slipping into place.

_Ring…_

_Just the one_, she thought, throwing down the towel to answer the door, mind working as she walked_. Clean and quick - maximum pressure, agitated_.

Opening the front door, she contained her joy. "Hello, sir. To see Sherlock Holmes?" She asked their latest client.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Hounds of Silence**

**Silent Hound**

John looked up as he came into the living room with a tray of drinks, seeing Rose open the door to reveal a man who looked incredibly stressed.

"Take a seat, sir." She said, indicating to the now vacant chair.

John looked between Sherlock and Rose though, wondering if they were going to start arguing again. It was curious though; Rose looked to Sherlock, who looked down a fraction chewing his lip slightly before looking up to her again, expectant of something. She just followed suit, looking down and sighed before looking up to him, folding her arms.

John frowned at the two of them and their apparent silent conversation, but seeing Sherlock nod slightly, Rose just twitched an eyebrow upwards slightly, mouth pulling to the side before turning away to talk to the client again. John had no idea what was going on between the two of them, but - of course - they did.

Sherlock had - in his own way - apologised, as had Rose in the same manner. She knew Sherlock had said it on a whim and though he didn't necessarily not mean it, she knew he meant no harm by his deductions. However, Sherlock now understood he had in fact done some harm and that she was still rather pissed off. He'd just have to tread carefully for a bit before they could fall back to their usual routine.

"My name's Rose, Rose Spencer." She started, seeing a cup of tea on the tray for her. "This is Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson. How can we help?"

"Hello." The man said in an unusual accent, voice a little wobbly, as it usually was these days; he was a nervous wreck and knew it. "I'm Henry Knight… I've got a problem you see."

"Evidently." Sherlock replied, sounding bored already, earning himself a discrete cough from Rose, who was getting her drink.

Sensing the tension around him, Henry started to stutter a bit more. "I told my story to some television people, I've got a copy if you'd like to see it."

"Umm…is it very long?" John started, looking to the other two; a long DVD would not help them right now.

"Oh, not long." Henry chipped in, knowing what John was getting at.

Rose put her mug down. "That's fine." She said, taking the disc off him and putting it in the player, throwing the remote to Sherlock to be in full control. It was strange; while they may be walking a little bit of a rocky path, they still worked completely in sync. Pressing the play button, it started to play.

"_Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here? Something very real?" _The woman on the screen was walking down a path, talking to the camera, explaining a back story to the little video. _"Because Dartmoor is also home to one of the governments most secret of operations, the chemical and biological research centre, which is said to be even more sensitive than porton down. Since the end of the second world war, there have been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments; genetic mutations. Animals grown for the battlefield. There are many that believe, in the compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is; are all of them still inside?"_

_Ominous, _Rose thought with a dry internal tone as the scene changed from the woman to Henry himself.

"_I was just a kid." _Henry told the reporter; _Henry Knight, Grimpen resident _written at the bottom on the screen. _"I was on the moor. It was dark, but I know what I saw."_ Rose frowned, leaning forward to see the drawing on the screen a bit clearer; it looked like a very big dog, teeth bared with the small caption _Henry's drawing, aged 9. "I know what killed my father."_

At this point though, Sherlock got far too bored and turned off the TV. "What did you see?"

Henry just got a little flustered though. "Oh, I was…I was just about to say.."

"Yes." Sherlock agreed. "In a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes." Henry said, looking rather puzzled. "Yes, right, of course." He held up a finger before pulling out a tissue to blow his nose with.

"In your own time." Rose said, trying to be patient.

"But quite quickly." Sherlock amended earning a side long glare.

Henry just frowned slightly. Rose got the impression that he wasn't a man to be hurried. "Do you know Dartmoor Mr Holmes?"

"No." Sherlock replied.

"It's an amazing place." Henry told them. "It's like no where else; sort of …bleak, but beautiful."

"Hmm, not interested." Sherlock said. "Moving on."

Henry just looked down, fidgeting with his napkin. "We used to go for walk, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

"Yes, good." Sherlock said, trying to be nice about his prompts. "Skipping to the night your dad was violently killed; where did that happen?" John just frowned at his friend's words, but Rose paid attention, a little more used to Sherlock's lack of regard to societal norms.

"There's a place, a sort of local land mark." Henry answered. "Called Dewer's Hollow." Sherlock just gave him a questioning look while Rose looked to John. "It's an ancient name for the devil."

The consulting detective just raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Henry frowned, not quite understanding what Sherlock wanted. John spoke up though, wanting to get some sort of footing between the eager addict and the slow client. "Did you see the devil that night?" This earned him a strange look from the other two.

But Henry just turned his gaze to the doctor, seeing that someone understood. Nodding, he just whispered, "Yes. It was huge, coal black fur with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart." Henry took a breath, trying to calm himself. "I can't remember anything else, they found me the next morning just wondering the moor. My dad's body was never found."

There was a silent moment in the flat as the three of them thought on the man's tale. Rose spoke up first, looking to a disbelieving Sherlock. "What do you think? Red eyes, coal black fur…? Enormous dog?"

"Wolf?" John chipped in, thinking it a little more likely.

Sherlock however was sarcastic as always. "Or a genetic experiment?"

Henry looked at him though, seeing he wasn't being taken seriously. "Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?"

Before Rose could step in, Sherlock answered. "Why? Are you joking?"

"Sherlock..." She muttered lowly, always trying to save some form of meeting with a client.

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville." Henry told them. "About the type of monsters they were breeding; people used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"I assume it did wonders for Devon tourism." Sherlock shot back.

John looked between the other two men to Rose, who looked as though it were a lost cause. The good doctor however thought the man may just need placating after so long. "Henry, what happened to your father, it was twenty years ago; why come to us now?"

Henry had lost his patience though, leaning forward to address Sherlock. "I'm not sure you can help me Mr Holmes, since you find it all so funny." With that he got up, walking around the chair as he headed for the door.

Sherlock stopped him in his tracks though, answering John's question. "Because of what happened last night."

Rose looked up at this; _he sounds interested_, she thought. "Why? What happened last night?"

Henry turned to them. "How… How do you know?"

"I don't know, I noticed." Sherlock corrected. "You came down from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. Girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you, and though you were initially keen, you've changed your mind. You are however extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day." He rattled off. "Sit down, Mr Knight and do smoke; I'd be delighted."

While Rose smiled slightly, John just looked annoyed with his smart alec of a friend. Henry Knight however looked even more lost, and certainly lost for words. He looked around a bit before walking back to his chair, sitting down as he pulled out his tobacco and papers. "How on earth did you notice all that?"

"It's not important." John cut in, knowing Sherlock would just go off on one.

"Punched out holes through your ticket, left on your coat." Sherlock started.

But John was persistent. "Not now Sherlock."

"Oh, please!" Sherlock exclaimed. "I've been cooped up in here for ages."

"You're just showing off." John told him.

"Of course, I am a show off; its what we do." Sherlock and Rose chorused at the same time, Sherlock glaring at the smirking woman who'd predicted his reply down to the timing and even the facial expression.

Meanwhile, Henry just watched them all, wondering why they were acclaimed to be the best you could get. _They seem like a bunch of children taking the mick, _he thought vaguely.

Sherlock took a breath and twitched his jaw. "Fine. Go on Rose, astound us."

She threw him a dirty look before turning to Henry, pointing out everything she saw and what it all meant. "Train napkin you used to mop up the spilled coffee. Colour of the stain shows you didn't take milk. Traces of ketchup on it and around you lips, and on your sleeve; cooked breakfast." She shrugged, thinking it over. "Well, the best thing those trains can offer; probably a sandwich."

Henry looked at her disbelieving expression on his face. "How did you know it was disappointing?"

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train?" Sherlock asked, getting a hum of agreement from Rose. Turning to his assistant, he asked, "The girl?"

She pointed out the napkin again. "Female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number on the napkin, can tell by the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you' other side of the aisle. Later, probably after she got off, you used the napkin to mop up the spilled coffee, smudging the numbers. You went over the last four numbers in a different coloured pen, so you wanted to keep the number."

"But…?" Sherlock encouraged.

"But just now you blew your nose with the napkin, maybe you're not so keep after all." She carried on, getting round to his need to smoke. "Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers - shaking fingers." She waved a hand, shooting a look at Sherlock. "I know the signs. Didn't have time to roll one on the train, didn't have time to roll one before you got a cab here. It's…just after nine, and you're rather desperate for a cigarette. First train from Exeter to London leaves at six forty six am, so you got the first one possible, so something must have happened last night..." She turned to Sherlock, eyebrow raised. "Am I wrong?"

"Spot on." He complemented, getting a small, proud smile out of the young woman.

"You're right." Henry said, looking over to her, wondering how she had done it. "You're completely right… bloody hell, I heard you were quick!"

Rose just winked at him as Sherlock spoke up. "She's certainly learning. Now shut up and smoke!"

Rose looked at him - noting his closer seat than where she was sat - wondering what he was going to do. Her temper was a fair bit calmer though, given his slight compliments, so she started the questioning. "So Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old…?"

At that moment, as Henry took his first puff - Rose chewing her lip slightly - Sherlock shot forward, inhaling all the second hand smoke Henry breathed out. John looked slightly disturbed as Henry just stuck with his perpetually confused look.

_Cheating sod! _She thought, carrying on. "That must be quite a trauma…now have you thought that maybe you invented this story to account for it?" She was quite proud that she didn't pause as Sherlock shot forward again.

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says." Henry told them.

"Who?" John asked.

"His therapist." Sherlock and Rose said, again in sync, glaring at each other again; John however was starting to find it a little bit disturbing, especially being sat between the two of them.

"My…therapist." Henry answered, now unnecessarily as he was a second too late.

"Obviously." Sherlock added, smiling a forced short smile at their client, trying to fight the urge to rip the cigarette from his hand.

"Louise Mortimer." Henry elaborated, finding John and Rose were far easier to talk to than the strange man that sat right in front of him. "She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to…face my demons."

Sherlock looked up. "And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry?" Getting no answer, he elaborated himself. "You went there on the advise of your therapist, now you're consulting a detective - what did you see that changed everything?"

"It's a strange place the hollow." Henry told them. "Make you feel so cold inside, so afraid…"

"Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends - much funnier." Sherlock told him, ignoring John's irritated sigh to the side. "What did you see?"

"Footprints." He replied, smoke billowing around him. "On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

"A man's or a woman's?" Rose asked.

"Neither." Came the reply from their client. "they were-"

"Is that it?" Sherlock asked. "Nothing else; foot prints. Is that all?"

"Yes." Henry nodded, looking sure. "They were-"

"Nope, sorry!" Sherlock decided. "Dr Mortimer wins; child hood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye Mr Knight, thank you for smoking."

"No." Henry tried again. "What about the foot prints?"

"Oh, they're probably paw prints, could be anything, therefore nothing." Sherlock told him, getting out of his chair. "Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me."

"Mr Holmes!" Henry said loudly, wanting to be heard out. "They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

Sherlock froze, frowning slightly. Not able to let it go, he turned around, standing behind the once again client. "Say that again."

_He's got that look again, _Rose thought, knowing they were on to something here.

"I found the foot prints, they were-"

Sherlock cut him off tough. _Why do people never just answer the question? _"No, no, no - your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them."

"Mr Holmes…" Henry said again, slowly this time, trying to work out what it was he'd said. "…they were the footprints…of a gigantic...hound."

Sherlock looked up, mind racing. "I'll take the case."

John was confused though. "Sorry what?"

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Sherlock said, practised words falling out as he thought. "It looks very promising."

"No, no, no." John interrupted again, wanting to know what he'd missed; so did Rose but she knew she'd find out soon enough. "A minute ago footprints were boring, now they're very promising?"

"This has nothing to do with footprints, John." Sherlock dismissed. "As ever you weren't listening." This caused both flatmates to frown though, now they were both lost. "Baskerville; ever heard of it?"

"Vaguely." John replied. "It was all very hush, hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start." Rose chipped in, knowing they were on a trip.

Henry wasn't so sure though. "You'll come down then?"

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy." Sherlock replied, John frowning as Rose just hung her head. "But don't worry, I'm sending my best people. I can always rely on them to send me all the relevant data - as they don't understand a word of it themselves."

"Right you are, boss." Rose answered, tone as sweet as sugar and she smiled up to Sherlock; he'd never admit it, but the overly sweet expression, coupled with the honey voice, rather creeped him out somewhat.

"What are you talking about? _You're busy." _John said, looking between Sherlock - who looked rather smug - to Rose - who was still smiling at Sherlock. "You don't have a single case! A minute ago, you were complaining-"

"Bluebell." Rose interrupted, looking at John with an obvious look. She knew Sherlock was up to something, and just had to push them in the right direction.

"I've got bluebell, John!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Case of the vanishing glow in the dark rabbit. Natives in uproar." He told Henry, who just got more confused.

"Oh sorry, you're not coming then?" Henry asked, trying to work out what was happening.

Sherlock just frowned, looking very sad; as though he'd missed the chance to do something amazing, but just simply couldn't get out of other plans. This expression was aimed solely at John, who knew what the man wanted.

"Oh…" John sighed, looking defeated. "Okay, fine!"

Getting up, he went over to the mantle place and lifted the skull, showing them all a packet of cigarettes. Picking them up he threw them to Sherlock.

Sherlock however threw them over his shoulder immediately. "I don't need those." He said smugly. "I'm going to Dartmoor." With that he walked out of the room and went to pack.

As soon as he was out of the room, Rose smiled widely - an honest smile for once. "Brilliant." She'd always liked the idea of Devon, and Dartmoor sounded perfect. "You go on ahead, Henry, we'll follow later."

"I'm sorry." Henry said once more, trying to keep up. "You are coming now then?"

Rose just smirked at a tired looking John. "A twenty year old disappearance, a monstrous hound? He wouldn't miss this for the world."

Henry just huffed slightly, smile on his face. "Right, brilliant. Okay, well, I'll see you there then."

"Yes, we'll have a look around and take it from there." Rose said. "I'll see you out."

When she came back, John was just in the kitchen, finishing off the dishes. "We should start packing, might be there for a few days."

"Yeh, probably." John replied, but as she went to leave, he called her back. "Rose?"

"Yeah?" She responded, spinning round to stand in the doorway.

John frowned slightly, not really knowing what to say; she seemed completely normal again. "Are you…okay?"

"Of course, I'm always okay." She responded, frowning slightly.

John just folded his arms. "You know what I mean; about earlier?"

"Oh…" She said, looking down. Nodding she looked up to him again. "Yeah, I'm fine, really. He just pisses me off sometimes..."

John nodded. "Yeh, been there..."

She laughed, remembering when John stormed out before. "Yeh, but this new case will be good I think; get some fresh air, change of scene. It'll be good"

"I hope so." John said, grinning at the young woman. "Because you're starting to sound like him."

She gasped in fake horror, looking appalled at such an idea. "Wash your mouth out, doctor!" She told him before grinning at him, laughing as she went to pack, John doing the same.

An hour and a half later, everything was sorted and Rose was shutting the door behind her as Sherlock was starting to put the bags in the cab. Running up to the road to meeting them, she threw in her own duffle bag. "All set?"

Before either of them could answer the eager young woman, a bang came from behind them; Mrs H was in the shop next door, arguing with Mr Chatersby.

"Ooh…" John said. "Looks like Mrs Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster."

"Poor Mrs H…" Rose said, frowning in thought of the angry woman.

Sherlock however was one up on them all. "Wait until she finds out about the one in Islamabad…"

"Ooh..." Rose sounded, frowning at the gossip. "Busy boy!"

The men chuckled as they all piled into the cab.

Sherlock addressed the driver. "Paddington station, please."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Hounds of Silence**

**A New Silent Ground**

Getting off the train they each lugged their own bags over to the car park, but when Rose and John saw where they were going, they were a little confused.

"Sherlock." Rose started, deciding to point out the obvious. "We don't have a car."

"Yes, we do, come on." Was the reply from the mad man.

Frowning, they just picked up their pace to catch up with Sherlock. As he stopped though, they saw him duck down to take out an envelope from under the cover of the front wheel.

"Okay, that's a little strange." John said, looking to Rose, who just shrugged, used to the strange things that occurred when they travelled a bit further.

"You get used to it." She said. Popping the boot, she put her bags in, taking Sherlock's as well as he read the note that came with the set of keys.

_Try to get this one back in one piece_

_M Holmes_

Smirking at the memory of the last car they'd rented, he screwed up the papers and looked up. "Rose." He called, getting her attention first before throwing the keys to her before going to get in the car.

Catching the keys though she frowned. "Why are you giving me the keys?"

"So you can drive the car." Sherlock replied obviously, holding the back door open for John.

Rose just started shaking her head though, "Oh, no, no, no." But the man was already in the car. Opening the door, she leant in. "I can't drive."

"Oh." Was all Sherlock said, frowning slightly.

John spoke up then. "I'll drive."

"No, it's alright John." Replied the consulting detective, smirk in place at something new to do. "Rose can learn."

Her face fell at this though. "What?"

"That's right." He confirmed, getting out and moving to the front passenger seat. "Get in."

John just sat in the back, wondering if he should have gotten into the car at all. "Maybe I should get out, while you two sort this out…"

"Nonsense." Sherlock told him. "It'll only take a minute."

"Sherlock?" Rose asked warily, getting into the drivers seat. "Are you actually licensed?"

He just stared ahead. "I can drive."

"That's a no then." John muttered, seriously debating just walking.

"Right, so!" Sherlock started with a clap, looking happily to Rose - who looked slightly terrified at being trusted to control the car. "Well, start it up then."

It was a little under an hour later that they came to a sudden halt halfway up a hill, the green expanse surrounding them, stretching around the three people in the car as far as the eye could see. They weren't paying attention to the landscape though.

Right in that moment, Sherlock was very still, having caught himself on the dashboard, John sat in the back in a similar position on the front chairs, and Rose - being the driver - had a death grip on the wheel, eyes wide as she finished her first ever driving lesson.

She hadn't killed any of them - which was a big plus in her opinion - but Sherlock had decided that after a short road trip, the hills would be safer than the roads for now; less people, less cars, just the earth beneath the car. However, Rose hadn't expected the earth to be so bumpy.

"I think you can turn it off now, Rose." Sherlock told her, knocking her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, right." She said, a little flustered. "Of course."

After turning off the car and making sure it wouldn't roll away, she got out of the car, seeing John a little further away holding a map while Sherlock climbed a large rock.

"How are we looking?" She asked them, standing next to John.

"There's Baskerville." He told them, pointing over the hills to what looked to be a compound, fencing running all around it. Pointing in the other direction, he said, "That's Grimpen Village."

"So that must be…" Rose said, looking on the map.

"Yes, Dewer's Hollow." John confirmed.

Sherlock looked around though, frowning at the dots on the landscape. "What's that?"

Looking through the binoculars John had picked up, she frowned. "I don't know."

"Let's have a look." John said, taking them off her. "Minefield? Technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."

"Clearly." Sherlock said, a dark tone to his voice. He didn't like the idea of being so close to a minefield. Frowning once more in the direction of the army base, he started to climb down from his higher rock. "Come on! Let's check out the village."

"I'm still driving aren't I..?" Rose asked, not liking the idea of driving. She didn't know whether it was because it was new, because they were in the car with her, or if just driving in general, but she wasn't happy about it.

"Yep." Sherlock said happily. "Just think of it as practise, you'll need it later."

"Why?" She asked, now very nervous at the idea that she needed to know how to drive.

Sherlock just gave her a happy smile, enjoying her lack of knowledge. "You'll see!"

"Sod..." She muttered, getting back into the drivers seat, earning a chuckle from her friend. John just stayed quiet, wondering why Sherlock was making Rose drive, but starting to find their banter more funny that worrisome; a nice change from their recent tension.

Getting used to the way the car worked, they took a not to fast drive over to Grimpen Village, the lack of traffic and fresh air coming in through the open window being a balm to the woman's nerves. All this green was starting to remind her of her old home in Wales.

Pulling up - a bit smoother this time - next to a building called "The Cross Keys" the three friends got out, looking around the sunny little village as a small group of tourists followed a guide down the road.

"All right, three tours a day." The guide was telling them. "Tell your friends, tell anyone! Don't be strangers, and remember; stay away from the moor at night, if you value your lives!" This just got a laugh from the small crowd, though the three newest arrivals didn't find it funny, Sherlock turning is coat collar up as he went past; he thought the group rather tedious.

Seeing the looks he got from his companions though, he defended himself. "It's cold." Rose and John just shared a knowing look.

_Cross Keys_

_Boutique_

_Vegetarian Cuisine_

"Ooh," Rose picked up, seeing the sign. "Decent food for once."

"Nothing wrong with a steak." John told her, getting a grimace in return. "I'm going to book us some rooms." Rose nodded as Sherlock just wondered off.

A few minutes later, John was waiting for his change. "I'm sorry we don't have any doubles left."

"That's fine." John said, half used to this conversation by now. "We're not… none of us are-"

"That's okay, we'll manage just this once, wont we honey?" Rose said, cutting him off as she appeared next to him, eyes wide and smile sad, as she looked up to him. Putting down a ten pound note, she turned to the man behind the counter, getting drinks for them all. "Two J2O's and a beer for John, as well please."

"No problem love." He replied with a wink before going to get them.

John turned to her, shocked expression on his features. "Why did you do that?"

"Bored." She replied with a shrug.

John just raised an eyebrow at her. "Now you really do sound like him."

"I take offence to that." The young woman replied as she got the drinks.

A pale hand came from behind her, picking up his bottle. "No you don't." corrected Sherlock as he walked out to sit at a bench.

"I'll just get your change." The barman said, taking the money off her.

"Thanks." She replied.

Just as John was about to turn away to follow Sherlock outside however, he spotted a receipt held in place with a toothpick on the counter, meat supplies written on it. Frowning, he quickly ripped the receipt from its place and slipped it in his pocket just as the owner came back.

"Here you are, love." He said, handing her the coins.

"Thanks." She said with a smile before getting to work, John leaning on the counter to see what she was talking about. "I couldn't help noticing, on the map of the moor; skull and cross bones?"

"Ohh…" He said, going to put glasses on the counter. "That."

_Useful_, she thought, trying again. Giving him a friendly smile she asked with a laugh. "Pirates?"

"Eh, no, no." The man said, coming over again. "The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."

"Oh, right." She replied, frowning slightly.

Seeing this he continued. "It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for 80 odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."

Rose hummed, but John chipped in then, looking a little worried; he'd worked with his two friends before after all. "Explosives?"

"Oh not just explosives." The man replied cheerfully. "Break into that place, and if you're lucky, you just get blown up, so they say. In case you're planning a nice wee stroll."

"Ta, we'll try and remember." John replied.

"Aye, no it buggers up tourism a bit." The barman told them, wiping down the counter top. "Thank god for the demon hound! Did you see the show? The documentary?"

"Yeh, quite recently." Rose replied, not mentioning the reason why they were there.

"God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell." The barman said, coming to stand in front of them as he picked up some glasses.

"Ever seen it?" John asked. "The hound?"

"Me? No, no. Fletcher has." He replied, looking quite relieved as he pointed out the other man. "He runs the walks; the monster walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it." As they turned, they saw Sherlock looking at Fletcher, walking out the door.

"That's handy, for trade." John said, keeping the attention on them rather than Sherlock.

"Aye." He said, turning to talk to the shorter man behind the counter as he came out from the back. "I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy."

"Yeh, lots of monster hunters." Billy replied, looking to them, rather camp in both his movements and is voice. "Doesn't take much these days. One mention on twitter and woomph! We're out of WKD."

"Alright." Said the first man, whose name they still didn't know.

"What with the monster and the ruddy prisoner; I don't know how we sleep night, do you Gary?" He carried on, quite the talkative one.

Gary just walked past him, hand on his shoulder as he looked at them. "Like a baby."

Rose smiled as Billy just looked incredulous. "Now that's not true. He's a snorer." He told them - getting a hurried "_hey, shh_!" from his partner - leaning forward slightly, looking at Rose. "Is yours a snorer?"

Rose just smirked, glancing at John - who clearly had the expression that said, _don't you even dare reply to that _- before looking back to Billy. "Terrible." She mouthed, shaking her head slightly.

"Got any crisps?" John asked, trying to move on from the awkward situation.

Rose just laughed at her friend before turning to the two barmen. "Thanks guys." Before going outside to join Sherlock.

Sitting down opposite him, she didn't bother asking about the guide he'd been talking to. Before she could say anything at all though Sherlock spoke up. "Bets off, old girl, sorry."

"Oh that's a shame, why?" She asked, knowing he was up to something.

A while back, when he didn't have the time - or the bother - to explain his plans, he'd simply trusted her to play along, but needed to let her know that something was actually going on, so had called her old girl. It had bugged her to no end ever since and despite trying to get him to use something else - anything else - he insisted. It was simple, discrete and best of all, it annoyed her, which he always enjoyed.

"Bet?" The guide asked and one quick look over from Rose told her the main points; racing section in the paper he had sticking out his pocket suggested he liked to gamble; a bet would interest him.

"My plan needs darkness." Sherlock said as John came to join them, taking the seat next to Sherlock. "We've only got about another half an hour of light…"

"Wait, wait…" The guide said, interrupting the taller man. "What bet?"

Sherlock just looked slightly obvious. "Oh, I bet Rose here £50 that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound."

"Yeh, the guys in the pub said you could." John said, catching on now. Rose just shrugged, nodding along, flashing the guide a bright smile.

He just looked between them - giving Rose a bit of a longer look - before smiling as he turned to Sherlock. "Well you're going to loose your money mate."

"Yeah?" Sherlock asked, egging him on.

"Yeah." He mirrored confidently. "I seen it, only about a month ago. It was foggy mind, couldn't make much out."

"I see." Sherlock retorted, sounding disbelieving. "No witnesses, I suppose?"

"No, but…" The guide started.

"Never are."

"No, wait." The guide said, getting a little more excited to prove Sherlock wrong. Finding the photo he was looking for, he showed Sherlock. "There."

Sherlock took one look and laughed loudly. "That's it? Not exactly proof, is it? Sorry, Rose, I win."

"Bugger." She muttered, looking sad again, knowing the guide was watching her.

"Wait, wait!" He said, trying to win the bet and cheer her up a bit. "That's not all. People don't like going up there you know; to the Hollow. Gives the a bad sort of feeling"

"Ooh, is it haunted?" Sherlock mocked. "Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Nah, don't be stupid! Nothing like that." The guide told him. "But I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville. Escaped."

"A clone?" Sherlock pushed. "Super-dog?"

"Maybe." The guide retorted. "God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years. Or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could spit."

Starting to think it may be a lost cause, Sherlock gave one final push. "Is that the best you've got?"

The guide looked at him, thinking before hanging his head, looking through his bag as he spoke quietly. "I had a mate once, worked for the MoD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing, but he never showed up - well, not till late. When he did, he was white as a sheet, I can see him now. _I've seen things today, Fletch_, he said_, things I aint never want to see again. Terrible things_. He'd been sent to some secret army place. Porton Down, maybe? Maybe Baskerville. Or somewhere else. And in the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he'd seen…terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he'd said. And dogs…dogs the size of horses." He finished. Rose had to give the man some credit, he knew how to tell a good story.

However, it wasn't over, as he pulled out a cast of a paw print; it was the size of a small plate at least. Eyes widening, she could only imagine the size of the rest of the animal if that was just one foot. Looking to Sherlock, she smiled slightly. "We did say £50, didn't we?"

Sherlock just took out his wallet, handing her the money. It didn't matter to him anyway, she'd paid for more than her share of cabs.

"Thank you." She told him, pocketing the notes before smiling over to the guide.

"As you said though, it's going to be getting dark soon." The guide said, smug that he'd - apparently - kicked Sherlock down a peg. "I'll see you folks around."

"Yeh, thanks." Rose said, patting her pocket. As he walked away, she turned to a still quiet Sherlock who was just finishing his drink. "So what now?"

"Got something to take notes with?" He asked her.

"In my case, sure." She replied frowning.

"Good, get it ready." Sherlock told her. "And put some heels on."

Frowning further, she replied. "Okay, but why?"

Putting his drink down again, now empty, he replied. "Well, what would a Holmes be without his assistant?" With that, he got up and went over to the car.

Slightly confused, she looked to John who just shrugged. "I hate it when he does this." She told him, just getting a laugh as John went to join his friend in the car.

Downing the rest of her drink, she went to the boot of the car, changing her shoes, hoping she could drive relatively alright in heels. As she did, she thought about what he'd asked of her and then it clicked. Ignoring her overactive mind, she focused on the job, grabbing her small notebook and pen before going to the drivers side again, putting her writing things on the front seat, now that Sherlock was sat in the back with John.

"Where to, boss?"

Sherlock saw she knew generally the plan and smiled slightly; she really is learning quickly. "Baskerville."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Hounds of Silence**

**Silence of Science**

Heading down the road - Rose's driving a lot better than it was earlier than afternoon - John frowned as he thought about how they were going to get into the top secret military base.

"Sherlock?" He asked, getting a hum in reply. "How are we getting in?"

"Don't worry." Sherlock replied, still mostly in his thoughts. "Taken care of."

"Right." John said, sure that if Sherlock wouldn't tell him, Rose probably didn't even know.

The road winded slightly before running steady, the base coming into full view, another jeep driving past as they entered the base. Pulling up to the closed gate, Rose noted the guns, dogs and general security of the base.

A man in uniform approached the car as she rolled down the window. "Pass please?"

"Sir?" She asked, looking back slightly, holding her hand out for Sherlock, who placed a small card into it. Giving the card straight to the man, she didn't get a chance to see what it was without giving the game away.

"Thank you." Said the man before walking away, going to check the details on the card.

"We've got ID for Baskerville?" John asked. "How?"

"It's not specific to this place." Sherlock told them quietly. "It's my brothers. Access all areas. I, umm…acquired it ages ago, just in case."

"Brilliant." John said, not physically changing, but obviously not happy about the situation. Rose trusted her boss though, hoping it wasn't going to get her shot.

Sherlock turned to the doctor thought "What?"

"We'll get caught." John told him, wondering how Sherlock couldn't see the amount of ways this could go wrong.

"No we won't." Sherlock dismissed, before amending. "Well, not just yet."

"Caught in five minutes." John told him, taking the mick out of the situation as always. "_Oh, hi! We just thought we'd have a wonder around your top secret weapons base. Really?! Great! Come in, kettle's just boiled."_

"Will you two behave, you're acting like children." Rose muttered, rubbing her temples; she was starting to get a head ache.

"Yes, mum." Sherlock snaked, seeing the situation and the opportunity to bug her once more.

The man brought back the card, handing it to her through the still open window. "Here you are. Thank you very much."

"Thank you." She said, all business.

The man pointed on ahead. "Straight through, miss."

"Brilliant." She smiled slightly before rolling up the window. When the window was shut, she replied to her boss's earlier comment. "I'm not your mother."

"Thank god..." Sherlock muttered, making her smile slightly in response.

John however was still a little amazed at what they'd just done. "Mycroft's name literally opens doors."

"I've told you." Sherlock replied. "He practically is the British Government."

Rose just sighed. "How long have we got though?"

"I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realise something's wrong." He answered.

"Bit slow…" She replied, eyes on the road, concentrating on keeping her driving as normal and experienced as possible; she didn't want them being busted because she couldn't drive.

Pulling up outside what seemed to be the main building, they all got out, Rose with her head held high as she stayed off to the side and one step behind Sherlock, playing the part of dutiful assistant in the more traditional sense of the meaning, pen and paper at hand to note anything that needed further attention.

As they followed the man assigned to show them forward, they walked as thought they owned the place, not showing their wariness about the base they were currently going through, the armed soldiers walking past them. Before they could get to the front door though, another jeep pulled up, a shorter man in a uniform getting out and heading over to them.

"What is it?" He asked immediately. "Are we in trouble?"

"Are we in trouble, _sir_?" Sherlock corrected, establishing the chain of command there and then.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The soldier apologised, coming to stand in front of them, stopping them in their path.

"You were expecting us?" Sherlock asked him.

"Your ID showed up straight away Mr Holmes." Was the answer. _Sometimes being so well known is not a good thing_, Rose thought, hoping to stay under the radar. "Corporal Lyons. Security. Is there something wrong, sir?"

"Well I hope not, Corporal. I hope not." Sherlock replied, looking around, obviously not intimidated by the uniform and used to the way the army worked.

"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see sir." The corporal told them. "It just doesn't happen."

"Ever heard of a spot check?" John looked around, falling back into old ways as he straightened his back, feeling right at home on the army base. Taking out his wallet, he pulled out his ID. "Captain John Watson. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

The man saluted, recognising John's ranking. "Sir." Putting his hand down as John replied in kind, he continued. "Major Barrymore wont be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you immediately."

"I'm afraid they'll be no time for that, we'll need the full tour." John replied, dismissing the idea straight away. "Right away. Carry on."

There was a pause where the soldier didn't know what to do, but before he could make up his mind, John spoke up again. "That's an order, Corporal."

"Yes, sir." Lyons replied immediately, turning on his heel as they followed him to the door, swiping his card in the reader.

Stepping forward, Rose pulled out the card she still had from their trip through the gate, swiping it in the same manner. She let out a discreet breath of relief when the screen flashed green, ACCESS GRANTED written across it in white letters.

As the corporal opened the door, she saw Sherlock looking at his watch, tracking the time of entry so they knew how much time was left. One thing she'd learnt about the mad man in the time they'd worked and lived together; his timing was impeccable.

Slipping through he still opening door, the three flatmates walked down the pristine white corridor, the building taking a medical feel to it.

Sherlock, walking beside John, quietly told him. "Nice touch."

"Haven't pulled rank it years." John replied, still walking.

Rose repressed a smirk, knowing her friend all to well. "Enjoy it?

Looking around - and discreetly throwing a look to the young woman behind him - John replied. "Oh, yeah."

As they reached another door, she slipped further forward, swiping the card again, Sherlock checking his watch once more. The door slid open to reveal a lift, which, when it opened again, had taken them to a large laboratory, animals of all kinds in cages and on tables, leads around their necks if they were free.

"How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked as a large monkey darted around a cage, peering through the bars to look at them.

"Lots, sir." Replied the Corporal as though there were nothing at all wrong with it. Rose was disgusted.

Sherlock just fired back, "Any ever escape?"

"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir." Replied the soldier, pointing the way they had just come. "We aren't breeding them that smart."

"Unless they have help." Sherlock amended.

"Ah, and you are?" Asked a man in a white suit, coming over o see them all, wondering what was going on.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Frankland." Apologised Lyons. "I'm just showing these visitors around."

"Ah, new faces, how nice." He beamed at them, tucking his mask under his arm. "Careful you don't get stuck here though; I only came to fix the tap!"

John just chuckled as the man walked off, Sherlock and Rose giving small polite smiles; both thought the man was a little creepy, though Sherlock would never admit it.

"How far down does the lift go?" Rose asked the Corporal, taking the attention off the other two for now.

"Quite a way, Miss." Was the reply.

Ignoring the formal address, she just nodded, humming slightly. "And what's down there?"

The corporal looked a little confused, but Rose caught the twitch in his lips. "Well we have to keep the bins somewhere, Miss."

"Of course." She smiled, looking down to her note pad to avoid his gaze; playing the good office girl who was shy in such surroundings.

"This way please." The Lyons said, continuing with the tour, not seeing how Sherlock was watching the man at the lift; nor how the same man was watching them.

"So what exactly is it that you do down here?" John asked, wanting to know more.

"I'd thought you'd know sir." Lyons replied. "This being an inspection."

John's brain froze for a second before picking up with it's usual sass and sarcasm; a trait he'd picked up from his flatmates. "Well, I'm not an expert, am I?"

The Corporal repressed a sigh, not being prepared for an inspection on such short notice. "Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?" John pushed.

"Of one sort or another, yes." The Corporal admitted.

John wanted to try and get specifics though. "Biological, chemical…"

"One war ends, another begins, sir." The Corporal replied, though Rose didn't really know if he sounded regretful or happy to be in a job. "New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared."

Rose swiped the card to unlock another door, seeing Sherlock check his watch once more. She wondered how much time had passed and whether they were pushing it. _Always does cut it fine_, she thought, remembering the other times where they'd only just got away from something that would have killed them, should they have left seconds later.

As they walked in a monkey screeched, drawing their attention instantly. As a man in a lab coat dealt with the loud animal, a woman with a clipboard was walking towards her desk. "Okay, Michael. Lets try halo 3 next time."

"Doctor Stapleton." The soldier called, announcing their presence. Sherlock however frowned slightly, muttering the name to himself, earning a curious glance from his assistant.

"Yes?" She called, still working. As she looked up though, she paused. "Who's this?"

The Corporal didn't look happy as he stood to the side, explaining. "Priority ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection."

She just looked shocked, eyebrows shooting upwards. "Really?"

"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton." Rose told her, face straight and tone sharp.

"What's your role at Baskerville?" Sherlock asked her, getting to business.

The woman looked between them all however and simply laughed at them. This made Rose frown, scribbling a note of the woman's name in her book; it didn't mean anything at all, but it served its purpose in their little act. At this, the Corporeal looked slightly panicked, not wanting to fail an inspection due to ignorance, and certainly not on his watch.

John however frowned more. "Accorded _every_ courtesy, isn't that the idea?"

The lab woman sobered up, but still didn't want to cooperate. "I'm not free to say. Official secrets act."

"Oh you most certainly are free." Sherlock told her happily, however soon dead panned, looking her in the eye as he continued. "And I suggest you remain that way." Rose didn't even flinch at the threat, John nodding once before frowning slightly as he realised what Sherlock had said, giving the man a puzzling glance.

Stapleton took the hint though. "I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pie. I like to mix things up, genes mostly. Now and again, actual fingers."

Sherlock huffed though, snatching the notebook and pen from Rose who let him have it, wondering what he was up to. "Stapleton." He said, writing as he did so. "I knew I knew your name."

"I doubt it." She replied, now looking a little worried.

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence, what dull lives they must lead." Sherlock told them before holding up the book for the lab woman to read, squinting as he tried to read her reaction to the word.

_BLUEBELL_

The Corporal leant forward to read it, frowning at its mystery. Stapleton however looked at Sherlock, slightly more panicked. "Have you been taking to my daughter?"

Sherlock snapped the book shut, dropping his hand as he gave it back to Rose. "Why did bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?

John frowned though, realising what he was on about as Rose found the page he'd written on, frowning at the word. "The rabbit?"

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." Sherlock explained.

John just turned to Rose though. "The rabbit?!"

"Clearly an inside job." Sherlock told her.

"Oh you reckon?" The doctor woman defended, crossing her arms; _defensive posture_, Rose noted.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

Rose's eyes shot wide open then as she remembered the story. "Because it glowed in the dark…"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Stapleton responded, as Sherlock checked his watch again. "Who are you?"

_Oops…_Sherlock thought, turning on his heel, his companions following him quickly. "Well I think we've seen enough for now Corporal. Thank you so much."

"That's it?" Lyons asked, surprised by the sudden change of tune from the man.

"That's it." Sherlock confirmed. "It's this way, isn't it?"

"Just a minute!" Stapleton called, but they kept walking.

"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?" John asked Sherlock in a harsh whisper, Rose sighing slightly when he put it like that.

Swiping the card, Rose was glad it still worked, the Corporal swiping his seconds later. _Oh I hope you haven't got too carried away this time Sherlock_, she thought.

They got halfway through the first laboratory when Sherlock's phone went off. Checking it, he laughed.

_What are you doing?_

_M_

"23 Minutes." He told them. "Mycroft's getting slow."

Rose smirked lightly as they got to the lift, controlling her face once more as she swiped the card, wondering if it would still work. As the doors opened however, the paused slightly, seeing there was someone already in there.

"Oh, hello." Greeted Doctor Franklin, smile still in place. "Again."

Sherlock just gave him a blank look as they got in; he didn't trust the man. It was a little cramped, but they all fit, the doors soon opening again to reveal the hallway they'd first come through. This time though it was occupied by a rough looking man; lean and mean was the phrase that came to Rose's mind.

"Uh, Major, this is…" The Corporal started on seeing his boss.

"Bloody outrageous!" The major finished for him though, obviously not happy at their little visit. "Why wasn't I told?"

John - being the most experienced with high level arrogant army types, as well as being in front of the lift - got out first, addressing the man. "Major Barrymore is it? Yes. Well, good. Very good. We're very impressed." He held out his hand, but the major didn't take it, watching Sherlock slip past instead, Rose close behind him. "Aren't we, Mr Holmes?"

"Deeply." Sherlock replied, taking out his phone again. "Hugely."

_What's going on Sherlock?_

_M_

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense." The major shouted down the corridor, still not happy even as they were leaving. "Inspections…?!"

"I'm so sorry major." Sherlock said, talking over him, not sounding apologetic at all. "New policy. You can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." Lowering his voice, he spoke to his companions, making sure they were he only ones who could hear him. "Keep walking."

"Sir!" Lyons shouted from the back though, drawing the majors attention as they kept walking. However they weren't walking for long as the Corporal hit the alarm, the doors locking automatically, lights flashing as a siren blared out around them. "ID unauthorised, sir!"

"What?" The major questioned.

"I've just had the call." The Corporal told him.

Turning to face them, the unhappy major asked. "Who are you?" 

"Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake." John told him, still hoping they would get out of this without being arrested or shot as Rose handed the major the ID they were using.

Looking at the small card he frowned. "Apparently not, Mycroft Holmes."

"Computer error, Major." John told him, looking to Rose, making sure she was writing it all down. "It will all have to go in the report."

The major however had lost what little patience he had. "What the hell's going on?!"

"It's alright major." Came a happy, calming voice from behind them. Looking up, they saw it was Doctor Frankland. "I know exactly who they are."

"You do?" The major asked, not sure if it was a good thing, or if he should be suspicious of the scientist as well.

"Yeah." He confirmed, looking to Sherlock. "I'm getting a little slow on faces, but Mr Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

Sherlock looked a little guilty as he started to explain. "Ahh, well-"

"Good to see you again Mycroft." Doctor Frankland cut him off, holding out a hand to shake.

As the two men shook hands, John looked to Rose, who discreetly shook her head; she'd never met the man before. And she certainly didn't know why he was covering for them.

The happy man carried on though. "I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes at the WHO conference in…Brussels, was it?" He asked, trying to get some lighter conversation going between them; makes the story far more believable that way.

Sherlock blanked for a second before smiling tightly. "Vienna."

"Vienna; that's it." The other man replied, before looking to the major. "Major this is Mr Mycroft Holmes, there's obviously been a mistake."

The major took another glance at his visitors and nodded to his soldier. Turning to Doctor Frankland he told him. "On you head be it, Doctor Frankland."

The man just laughed at the threat. "I'll show them out Corporeal."

"Very well, sir." Lyons replied.

Making a quick escape, Sherlock waited until they were outside and that the Major wasn't following them before speaking. "Thank you."

"This is about Henry Knight isn't it?" The man asked, jogging to catch up with them. Standing between them and getting no answer, he carried on. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't think he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock just smiled at the praise, pleased with how wide spread his work had gone. Rose just coughed though, throwing John a look, which both doctors caught. "Oh, don't worry, I know who you really are, I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat though."

Rose smirked as Sherlock told him, "That wasn't my hat."

"I hardly recognise him without the hat." Frankland told them.

"Said he'd regret it…" Rose muttered

Sherlock was adamant though. "It wasn't my hat."

He moved on. "Love the blog too, Doctor Watson."

"Oh, cheers." John said, always happy to get a bit of feedback on his own work. It wasn't as dangerous or glamorous as Sherlock's work, but it was a little more human and generally more accepted.

"The pink thing." Frankland was saying, picking out his favourite stories. "And that one about the Aluminium Crutch!"

"Everyone like the one about the aluminium crutch." Rose pointed out, hearing it as a favourite for a long time now.

"You knew Henry Knight?" Sherlock asked, bored of the social conversation now.

"Well, I know his dad better." Frankland told them, the three friends turning to face the man in the lab coat. "He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." His tone took a sad turn, but on seeing Sherlock's glance over his shoulder, saw Major Barrymore watching them. "Listen, I can't talk now. Here's my cell number. If I can help, with Henry, give me a call."

Taking the paper off the man, Sherlock asked, "I never did ask, doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?"

"Mr Holmes I would love to tell you." He said. "But then of course I'd have to kill you!" He laughed, looking between them.

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you." Sherlock told him, completely missing the joke and brushing off any sort of threat. Seeing that Sherlock wasn't much for laughter, he sobered up soon. "Tell me about Dr Stapleton."

"I never speak ill of a colleague." He replied.

Sherlock frowned. "But you'll speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do."

Frankland pulled an obvious face. "I do seem to be, don't I?"

To watch the interactions between an obviously happy and jolly man and Sherlock Holmes was rather interesting; like putting a five year old in an high school science class where they just ask why and the teacher is trying to explain, only confusing the child more.

"I'll be in touch." Sherlock told him, waving the paper in the air.

Frankland nodded. "Anytime."

Heading towards the car again, John spoke up, as always, asking questions. "So?"

"So?" Sherlock repeated.

"What was all that about the rabbit?" The good doctor clarified. Before Sherlock answered though, he flicked up his coat collar, doing up his coat again. "Oh, please. Can we not do this again?"

"Do what? Sherlock asked, again not understanding his friend.

"You, being all mysterious, with your cheek bones…" John started, getting a raised eyebrow off Rose. "…And turning you coat collar up so you look cool."

Rose just looked to Sherlock, watching him try and get a sentence out. "I don't do that."

"Yeh, you do!" John shouted from the car. Sherlock frowned, looking to Rose.

"Yeh…"She said sadly, nodding as though it were some terrible news. "You do." Sherlock just huffed, getting in the car with John. Laughing, she got in the drivers seat, heading out of the compound once again.

About five minutes into their journey, John spoke up. "So, the email from Kirsty. The missing luminous rabbit…"

"Kirsty Stapleton." Sherlock clarified. "Whose mother specialises in genetic manipulation."

John was having a little trouble getting his head around the idea though. "She made her daughters rabbit glow in the dark…"

"Probably a fluorescent gene. Removed and spliced into the specimen." Sherlock informed them. "Simple enough these days."

"Right. So…" John started, trying to see where Sherlock was going with this.

"So we know doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals." Rose chipped in from the front.

"Ah, but the question is…" Sherlock continued from the back. "Has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

There was silence in the car as Sherlock and Rose thought about the possibilities before John spoke up, pointing out something. "To be fair, that is quite a wide field."

Sherlock just shot him a puzzled glare.


End file.
